


Sans Doesn't Want to go to the Doctor

by yastaghr



Series: Scribbling is its own Language - Oneshots [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Handplates, Inspired, Magic, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Sans, gaster blaster pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/pseuds/yastaghr
Summary: What it says in the title. Handplates inspired. Asgore POV.





	Sans Doesn't Want to go to the Doctor

Sans dropped himself into the plastic chair, his legs curling underneath him, hands wringing in his lap. His shoulders were hunched. His mandible was a hair’s breadth from his clavicles, his sockets empty, dull, and ringed with grey. He looked exactly as willing to be in the medical waiting room as he, in fact, was.

 

The chair beside him squeaked in protest as Asgore’s weight settled in, “Sans, I do not see why you are putting up such a fuss about this. All your employers want is a physical. Most humans have one every year, I have been told. It is not so bad, is it? A simple check on your stats and health.”

 

His only answer was a look. It was not a nice look, although it was not a bad look, either. The most that could be said about it was it proved the shorter of the skeleton brothers had, in fact, been listening. This was a marginal improvement on the start of the day. 

 

Toriel’s polite inquiry as to whom Sans wanted to drive him to the doctor had caused the instant vanishment of said skeleton. The combined efforts of Papyrus, Undyne, Toriel, Alphys, Asgore, and Frisk had nearly failed to pull Sans out of his lair of a room. The valiant warriors were now spread in various positions of exhaustion around the house while he, ex-King of Monsters and three-time winner of the Best of Horticulture Award at the County Fair, was barely preventing a less than human-child-weight skeleton from escaping this appointment with the most powerful holding spell known to Monsterkind.

 

“I do wish we could have found some other way of doing this which would not cause you so much distress, my friend. Why will you not share with us what has gotten you so-”

 

“Sans the Skeleton?”

 

Asgore’s head turned. His smile popped into place, “Ah. It seems they are ahead of schedule today. Shall we go in?”

 

Sans only response was to shift his stare from Asgore’s face back to his own phalanges. The Boss Monster sighed.

 

“Force it is then.”

 

He picked the skeleton up by his skull, freeing the inevitable lodged limbs with the other hand. The human nurse watched the procedure with trepidation.

 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to come in with him, sir…”

 

Asgore tucked the squirming skeleton under his arm and smiled at her sadly.

 

“I’m afraid there is no other way. My wi- former wife called ahead to arrange it with Doctor Todros. If there is some kind of a problem we can wait.”

 

Sans went dead in his arms halfway through the little speech. The woman turned behind her, whispering something. Whoever was there must have answered positively, for she turned back with a plastic grin.

 

“No, no problem here. Come on in, Mr. Dreemur, Sans. We’ve just got a few basic measurements to get out of the way first.”

 

Asgore ducked his head under the lintel and followed the harried young lady down a twisting hallway. They reached a weighing station and height stick. Sans was eyeing the exit signs thoughtfully.

 

“Just hold him up here please? We need to get an idea how tall he is for the records.”

 

Asgore ended up having to hold down Sans’ slippers with his own foot to get a measurement. The nurse wrote down the measly 4’2” on her blank sheet of records. Asgore idly thought upon how odd it must be for human rulers to be within one or two feet of the heights of all their subjects. From Moldsmaal to Temmie to giraffe monster, Asgore was quite accustomed to dealing with a full range of shapes and sizes.

 

Next came the weight scale, which proved to be a bit more of a problem. Asgore couldn’t hold Sans down on the scale, and Sans refused to stand on it. His posture was belligerent with an undercurrent of shaking. 

 

Eventually, the human nurse got impatient and pulled out a section of rubber hosing. Sans froze almost immediately, startling both of them. The skeleton’s gaze stayed fixed on the hosing as Asgore cautiously picked the skeleton up and set him on the weight. 

 

Asgore was rather surprised at how little the skeleton weighed - 13.65 pounds. He could have sworn it was more than that, although both brothers were well known for their gravity magic, so perhaps that shouldn’t surprise him. He would not put it past the skeleton to add a little extra help to his overall weight. Right now the skeleton was...distracted.

 

The human took one look at her blood-pressure gauge, Sans’ arm, and put the instrument away. Magical flow rates were somewhat more finicky that the human cardiovascular system, so the machines for them were not yet commonly used. The doctor had told Toriel that he had such equipment, but the nurse was likely not trained in its usage.

 

“This way.”

 

Her politeness had worn thin around fifteen minutes previous, and the woman led them over to an examination room dully. The hosing had been put away after the weighing, although Sans had stayed frozen for another minute. A few steps outside the office, he shook his head and looked around. 

 

The sight of the exam table through the door had Asgore cursing at how much Sans was fighting both the spell and him. The nurse looked back, blanched, and raced away. 

 

Asgore looked up from the struggling skeleton to see a large, floating skull staring back at him. It blinked, rotating slowly to examine its surroundings.

 

“Oh, dear. Dozer, please go back to Papyrus. Sans is overreacting. Nothing is going to hurt him here.”

 

Asgore gestured his head furiously at the Blaster. It tilted its head at him, failing to understand what the threat was, but knowing Sans was panicking, and therefore it needed to be there. It nudged Sans’ feet, getting kicked in the face for its trouble. It whined, then nuzzled its way underneath the flailing skeleton and up against his chest.

 

Sans’ phalanges dug into the bone. Trenches of red fluid followed in their wake as he dragged them back. He ran into the open socket and froze. His hands felt around for a moment, as if he couldn’t see the giant thing. They padded around the inside of the skull until they found some familiar feature. He rubbed against it, then gripped the edge of the bone and pulled the Blaster up against him. 

 

“Goodness, is that Sans? Stars, why didn’t someone tell me? Poor monster’s probably worked himself into a blind fit. You there, why are you- oh, hello Fluffybuns. Sorry about that, didn’t mean to shout at you.”

 

Asgore had turned, Blaster and skeleton in tow, to face the voice. He smiled at Doctor Tugger, a physician he knew from a case of pneumonia he’d fought off just after the fourth human. The young, teal cat monster had the kind of bedside manner that left his patients with little desire to get out of bed prematurely and ruin all his hard work. They’d not interacted more than a few times, but like all the cat monsters Asgore knew, Tugger refused to refer to him by anything other than the embarrassing nickname.

 

“It’s no problem, Tugger. You seem to have more of an idea of what’s going on than we did. None of us had any idea Sans would react so violently to a doct-”

 

“No, don’t say it. It looks like Dozer’s finally gotten him calm again. Just cover his eyes and follow me, I have a room that won’t set him off like that back this way. Berenice, can you find out who has Sans the Skeleton on their list for today and let them know I’m taking him with me? And ask Finn to grab a bottle of ketchup for me when he’s out at Grillby’s. A fresh bottle, please. Grillby will know what it means.”

 

Asgore padded curiously after the confident figure, moving Sans and Dozer around behind him when Tugger paused to talk to the harried young lady. She nodded bruskly at him and at Asgore. She turned to tap at one of those touch screen computer thingies, and Asgore rushed his burden past her station as quickly as he could manage. 

 

The nurse seemed slightly less white faced than she had been, but her breathing was shallow enough that he did not want to let her see the Blaster. They were very friendly beasts, on the whole, but apparently rather intimidating to most humans. Thus, much of their time was spent in...wherever they lived. He’d rather lost track of Sans’ and Papyrus’ explanation.

 

“Here we are, come right in. Don’t worry about the couch, it’s seen heavier than you. Set Sans over in the pillow nest, please. Dozer, go ahead and help him get comfy. There’s a good Blaster. Thank you.”

 

Asgore lowered himself gently into the orange couch cushions, watching Dozer carry several blankets and pillows into a heap around the small skeleton. Sans sat there numbly, his phalanges working at the fleece fabric of one of them dumbly.

 

The Boss Monster looked interestedly at the brightly colored room. Red and orange fabric was draped across the walls and ceiling. A pile of blue rugs covered the tile flooring. The desk was painted green - not hospital green, but a bright color the shade of healthy pine needles. The couch was orange with yellow piping, and the shelving to the left had primary-colored cloth baskets on every shelf. All in all, it looked more like a kindergarten playroom than a doctor’s office.

 

Tugger, rather than sitting behind the desk, had grabbed the small, portable screen and settled on the rug about two feet away from Sans. He’d been tapping away while Asgore satisfied a curiosity. The doctor seemed to have found what he wanted, because he pulled up a file on the screen and skimmed through it. He tutted at a few things, made a note on a few others, then set the device on the desk behind him.

 

The teal cat sighed and scratched his ear, “Today’s been a real mess for you, hasn’t it Sans? You’d think your brother at least would remember to call me. Or Grillby. I can’t seem to tell who set up this appointment, but I know it wasn’t you. Do you know, Fluffybuns?”

 

“The head of Human-Monster Resources at his new company. Apparently this sort of thing is standard for all new employees, and your office has a good reputation with monsters.”

 

Tugger snorted, “You mean me. The others mostly send their monster clients to me anyway, but some still try to take intake appointments away from me. You’d think by now the front desk people would know to check our old system as well as the human’s, but no. Maybe I can convince them after this. If they’d just checked we could have gotten this over and done with in fifteen minutes.” 

 

Asgore looked at him curiously. The physician addressed his answer to the pillow pile instead.

 

“It’s not even been four months since I saw you last, Sans. More than enough for these humans. Still, it looks like you’ve dropped some weight again, and I might as well do our six month today. Do you want me to call in Papyrus or Grillby, or are Asgore and Dozer enough, do you think?”

 

Asgore listened to the silence morosely, but turned when he heard rustling. Sans had dug himself out of the pile, and had started speaking in Hands jerkily.

 

-don’t need to bother. asgore’s fine. door, please?-

 

The confusing statement ended with a gesture Asgore recognised as meaning “I need this to happen but I’m asking politely” rather than “if you can do this that would make me happy, but it’s not necessary”. 

 

It wasn’t the only odd word choice, since the way Sans had indicated his name was from all the way back in his childhood days, and the word after that meant “a good strategic option” rather than the “trustworthy”, “acceptable”, or “okay” Asgore would have expected. The fact that Sans was speaking in Hands at all was even more startling.

 

“No problem. Fluffybuns, go sit in front of the door please? Take a cushion, the floor’s chilly.”

 

Asgore did as he was told, blocking the door with the ease of a monster who had to duck to fit through the doorway in the first place. Tugger nodded, and crawled over to Sans noisily.

 

“Alright, Sans. I’m going to narrate as I go like usual, but a little dumbed down so Fluffybuns doesn’t go glazy eyed on me. Okay?

 

-okay.-

 

“Alright. I’m going to start on your arms like always. Right first, let’s get the shock and awe over with, shall we?”

 

Sans nodded, presenting his right arm in a way that had Asgore wondering why he hadn’t been so cooperative this morning. Tugger held the hand loosely, running soft pads over ever bone quickly. He checked both sides, pausing at a scratch from a broken vase made earlier that week. He grabbed one of the shelved baskets, pulling a bottle of cream and a roll of bandages out from inside.

 

“Accidental scratch here. Shallow, but I’m putting a coat on it anyways. This is the calcium cream, same as you use. You might have seen the bottles, Fluffybuns. Grillby has two at the bar, and Papyrus had at least three last time I visited. Sans tends to “forget” to put this on, but it’s very important. Doesn’t matter if it doesn’t draw red, put a smear on and wrap it up cleanly. Tell the rest of your family, or ask Papyrus to show you how. I’d rather not have a repeat of last year.”

 

The hand now had a layer of fabric covering a generous dollop of calcium cream. Sans had scowled when it went on, but hadn’t resisted. Dozer had started snoring.

 

“Alright, moving on. I’m pushing up the sleeve now, Sans.”

 

Asgore broke out into a fit of coughing when he saw the metal plate along Sans’ radius. Six screws bolted it in place. Sans’ bone was cracking around one of them, but the rest were embedded so deeply in the bone, the tips were poking out the other end. The written form of hands covered the plate. The first and largest row was a series of letters and numbers that meant nothing to him. The second, smaller row spelled out “Property of the Royal Scientist”.

 

Tugger grinned angrily, “Yep. Everyone feels the same way. It happened long before Alphys’ time, mind you. She treated the Amalgamates far better than this. Don’t read the first row aloud, please. Ever. Papyrus has a similar one on his left hand. Don’t mention it to him. Or read anything on it aloud. I’d have told you about this before, but Sans was adamant that everything be kept a secret. Papyrus seems to have blocked the entire thing out of his memory, but he doesn’t react well if it’s mentioned.”

 

The entire time, Tugger was rotating Sans’ wrist gently, examining every inch of his arm bones and smearing the cream on all six attachment points.

 

“We can’t take them out - tried, ended badly. It doesn’t crack like this usually - I thought we finally got you to stop pulling at it when you’re nervous, Sans. It’s not bad, but you never remember to put on the cream. Some of these are pretty close to fracturing completely. I might have to put you in a cast.”

 

Sans whined, and Tugger halted. He pressed at the section of bone in his hands again, and Sans repeated the sound, louder. The cat sighed.

 

“A cast, definitely. You’ve got quite a bit of bruising here, too. You’d better not have been overdosing on your numb-makers to keep from coming to see me.”

 

-sorry-

 

The word meant “I’m feeling guilty because you caught me, not because I’m actually sorry”. It was a word often used to describe cats. Asgore chuckled at the honesty. 

 

The doctor set the hand on a pillow and flung up his own dramatically. He stood and started rummaging, pulling out plaster and a magic setting aid.

 

“What am I going to do with you, hmm? Every time you do this, and every time you make your brother worry, you make Grillby worry, you make me worry. Now you’re probably going to make Fluffybuns worry and Toriel worry and Alphys worry and Frisk worry. Maybe even Fishface will worry! It’s better if you just tell someone so we can get it fixed quickly. If you try to hide it, it’s going to get worse, and I really don’t want to have to fix anything worse than this.”

 

With every repetition of the word ‘worry’, Tugger popped another fragment of bone back into place. Sans was sweating and fidgeting, but not pulling away. The bruise was coated with cream and wrapped carefully, and the cast was set and holding by the end of the speech. Sans wiggled it experimentally.

 

“Stop that, I’m not finished. Left hand, please.”

 

The examination continued in that vain for a while. Sans had bruises on most of his limbs, including a small tail Asgore had never seen before. Tugger had been annoyed, but it occurred to Asgore somewhere around the second leg that Undyne had been rather rough that morning. Tugger rolled his eyes when the Boss Monster mentioned this.

 

“Of course that’s it. I should have guessed. Not that all of these are new, but a great many of them could have been prevented if someone had remembered to call me. Literally anyone. Sans, you’re excused because they no doubt used The Word and pushed you into an attack, but Papyrus is usually better than this...although it has been almost a year since he last saw me. He might be forgetting again. Dozer, get him to come in and see me. The rest of you I don’t trust to manage.”

 

The Blaster sniggered, and Asgore chuckled uncertainly.

 

“Oh, not you, Fluffybuns. You could probably get him in here. Toriel, too. I’m used to it just being Sans and Grillby.”

 

The doctor leaned back and studied his work. Sans had most of his bones wrapped in bandages now. He looked like a cheap movie mummy. Tugger sighed.

 

“Really, I think I need to have a talk with Captain Fishface. If she’s going to be in the same house as you, she needs to be more careful with how hard she’s playing. I’d write a you an excuse from PE class, but this isn’t school anymore and she needs to be more responsible.”

 

Sans chuckled, and the teal cat grinned.

 

“That’s more like it. You’re doing so much better - time was you’d have been recovering your composure for the next week.”

 

The physician sighed and looked over at Asgore. He seemed to be examining him carefully. He shrugged, then grabbed two talismans from one of the baskets near the floor. Asgore caught his clumsily, and read the description.

 

*Healer’s Sheild - +98 DEF. +8HP every other turn.

 

Asgore nearly dropped the thing again. Tugger glared at him.

 

“Careful, Fluffybuns. These have been used by my family for generations. Put it on, this part sometimes gets ugly. Even if you lot tired Sans out pretty well already.”

 

Asgore slipped the item on hurriedly. The doctor turned back to Sans and kept talking.

 

“You know what’s next as well as me. Can’t skip it, not if you worked yourself blind again. Try to summon it for me.”

 

The last words clued Asgore in on what was happening. He had just enough time to duck before the backlash hit him. A few seconds later, Tugger blinked rapidly down at him.

 

“A holding spell? Really? I guess that explains some things. Drop it, please. Don’t put it up again unless the universe is ending. And kindly catch me after I let go of the ceiling.”

 

Dozer drifted up to the puffed up cat monster before Asgore could get to his feet. The two floated safely down to the couch, where Tugger rolled off. The cat monster stood, brushed himself off, and gave Asgore a look that said “do not ever mention that indignity to anyone”. The former king released the spell, and Sans’ SOUL drifted out into the open freely. Asgore felt dizzy.

 

“Urgh, such stupidity I have never seen in all my...what, is it 60 years now? Sixty years in office. This takes the cake.” 

 

The cat monster carefully rotated the SOUL, examining it carefully from tip to bells without touching any of it. Asgore’s hand had come up to his jaw in a desperate attempt to keep his breakfast down. He wanted to look away, but the damage was too mesmerising for that.

 

“I’m sorry, but going to have to make you sleep for a bit, Sans. It’s almost split again, among other things. Put it away for me, I’ll get the sleepy thing. Your brother will be here when you wake up as usual, I promise.”

 

The feeling of nausea and pain faded away along with the Fractured SOUL. Asgore hadn’t seen one that bad...ever, really. He’d only seen a handful of Fractures before, all the result of severe trauma, most during the war.  How the doctor was keeping himself from reacting was beyond the Boss Monster’s understanding. Something like that was wrong beyond belief. 

 

Tugger dug around in a well-concealed cabinet behind his desk. Footsteps approached from behind him, muffled by the wood. They stopped, and Asgore felt someone knock on the door behind him. Both Sans and the cat monster went ramrod straight.

 

“Tugger, it’s me, Finn. Grillby insisted on coming back with me when I asked for the ketchup. Molly’s got him in the waiting room. Should I let him in?”

 

The teal monster’s bristle flattened again. Sans was still tense as a tightrope and stiff as a statue, his attention fixated on the door.

 

“Yes, please. Bring him right in.”

 

“Kay. I’ll leave the ketchup and your burger here for him to bring in.”

 

Footsteps retreated. Sans was still hiding nervously behind Dozer, who’d settled in for guard duty with all the intensity his name implied. Asgore went to stand, but Tugger motioned him down.

 

“Wait for Grillby to talk before letting him in. Sans will want to be sure it’s really him.”

 

Asgore settled down again. A little over a minute later, a familiar fire was crackling behind the door.

 

“.....Tugger, hello. No lettuce on your burger, and extra cheese. Sans, it’s me. I’ve got a bottle of ketchup. Third rack for doing so well with such a bad day…..I think Asgore is playing gate guard? It was either Asgore or Toriel, Papyrus still gets you two mixed up, sometimes…..I have a fried onion ring for Dozer. The others told me it was him.”

 

Tugger looked at Sans, who nodded. Dozer was practically drooling at the mention of onion. Tugger gave the signal at the same time Sans was speaking in Hands.

 

-is him, can come in.-

 

Asgore stood shakily. His legs had fallen asleep after so much time sitting there. He opened the door with a grin.

 

“It’s me, Grillby. Toriel was playing nurse back at the house last time I checked.”

 

The flame nodded and slid into the room past him. He dropped a grease-stained bag on the desk. Tugger pounced on it, tearing through the paper and drooling over the burger within. Asgore closed the door and took up his position again, while Grillby had gone over to crouch before Sans.

 

“.....I am sorry this happened, Sans….I called your brother. He had blocked the memories again…..completely.”

 

Sans hand motions were more muted than they should have been, even with the bandages.

 

-know. not his fault. sorry.-

 

The first word used had the connotation that the knowledge had been assumed, but confirmation was appreciated. The last was an old formalization of the more common “I didn’t mean to bother you” that also implied “I have caused problems” and “this was unintentional”. The way it was flung told Asgore that Sans was extremely upset - with himself, for some reason.

 

Asgore could not help but respond to this - as a king, and as a father of what had turned into a rather eclectic tribe, he could not let someone close to him wallow in guilt like that.

 

“Sans. Today was not your fault. I don’t know what has made you so wary of...places like this? People like Tugger?...but no one blames you. We care about you, and all we have wanted to do is to help you. If I had known my actions were setting you off like this - if any of us had known we were hurting you, we would have stopped. You couldn’t tell us, and you couldn’t stop it.”

 

Asgore chuckled, “You did an amazing job as it was - I certainly would have been much more destructive had I been as scared as you were.”

 

Tugger stopped wolfing down his cheeseburger long enough to agree, “Fluffybuns destroyed three lamps when I last had him under my care, and he just had pneumonia. Anyways, you’ve been much better today than I’ve ever seen you, so no moping. No blaming yourself either, young man. Do you hear me?”

 

Sans nodded sheepishly. He didn’t look entirely convinced. Grillby’s flames crackled and popped. Sans’ skull whipped round to face him.

 

“.....it is  **_his_ ** fault…..as always.”

 

Asgore could not help the confusion on his face. Tugger waved dismissively, licking grease off his other paw.

 

“Later, Fluffybuns.”

 

Tugger licked the other paw fastidiously, then walked over to the sink and began washing. He grumbled disparaging comments about public health codes and hair follicles under his breath. Finally clean, he shook his hands angrily, dried them off with a paper towel, and slipped on a new pair of gloves.

 

“Sans, mind climbing in Grillby’s lap for me? I had Endogeny in here yesterday and they slimed up all my other blankets. You usually want to be warm for this part.”

 

The next sentence was tossed over the cat’s shoulder as he once more bent to the hidden cabinet.

 

“He’ll need to go under today, Grillby. It’s trying to split again, and I’d rather be safe than deal with the consequences of letting it get worse. Now where is the- ah, here.”

 

Tugger straightened, brown plastic bottle in one hand, a large-tipped food syringe in the other.

 

“Has he eaten today?”

 

This was directed to Asgore as the doctor unscrewed the safety cap. The white label had several yellow warning tags sprouting from its side; far too many for Asgore’s peace of mind.

 

Asgore nodded worriedly, “I believe he managed one piece of toast before this all started. Does that count?”

 

Tugger shrugged, “Not for him, but the humans want me asking anyway. Sans hasn’t thrown up on me yet, so I doubt he’ll start now. Isn’t that right Sans?”

 

Sans shrugged. Grillby sighed, as Sans was only partway settled in his lap when he responded and had narrowly missed clipping his glasses with the gesture. The flame was being remarkably patient with Sans as he felt his way into a comfortable position. 

 

Asgore knew, after several slumber parties with Frisk’s extended family, that both skeleton brothers were very good at jabbing pointy hard bones into the most uncomfortable places. They always apologized, but it always happened anyway. Being careful did nothing to stop it.

 

Tugger filled the syringe from the bottle. He peered through the crystal-blue liquid, nodding sagely.

 

“Well, that’s the stuff alright. This batch is supposed to be blueberry flavored, Sans, so please tell me how close they got it. After the cherry nonsense last time I’m hoping this new flavor will actually taste right.”

 

The doctor knelt beside the two, the tip of his tail barely twitching.

 

“I’m going to steady your skull now, alright? Then the syringe.”

 

Sans gulped and nodded. Tugger slid his hand behind the skeleton, tilting his skull so that the fused row of teeth was angled towards the ceiling. He stuck the syringe into the right corner, behind the last tooth. Sans’ feet twitched, but he settled down when Grillby started humming softly. 

 

Tugger emptied the medicine into Sans’ mouth and pulled back, “Well done, Sans. You really have been doing so much better today, I’m not sure you’re the same skeleton who flattened my office all those years ago. Are you sure you aren’t hiding him somewhere? Maybe under here?”

 

Tugger quickly reached over and tugged on Sans’ hoodie. Sans jumped a little, and the cat monster released him.

 

“Sorry. Can’t help it, your jacket has always been irresistible. Maybe now we can find the surface store that makes it, and I can get one to match. Hmm...do you mind if I look at the label when you’re asleep? I really do want one - I’ve never found another quite so soft that holds up as well.”

 

Sans signed a yes, but the motion was slower than the others had been. He added, shakily:

 

-taste like mtt blueberries with glitter.-

 

Tugger guffawed, “That’s perfect, Sans! Oh, dear, I’ll have to tell Finn that one. He’ll be rolling on the floor! I can imagine that taste perfectly. Tacky and obnoxious with a hint of saccharine sweet. Oh my, I’m going to write that down. MTT blueberries with glitter - you just made my day.”

 

Tugger almost tripped over his own tail in his wobbly path to the desk’s drawers. Asgore watched him with concern. He did not quite see the joke - then again, the humor of cat monsters was always a bit unpredictable. He watched the doctor write himself a sloppy note on the matter. The looping strokes of his pen were quick and smooth. No doubt the resulting words would be illegible to anyone else. 

 

Minutes passed in companionable silence as the three monsters watched Sans slowly drift into slumber. It was a melancholy feeling - Sans looked so peaceful, but Asgore now knew just how much damage that quiet face covered up. How had he never noticed? Had he really been blind to the amount of pain they were causing this morning? 

 

He did not think himself a cruel monster, and yet...and yet someone had drilled a metal plate into a child, two children, under his rule. His authority, if that awful message was to be believed. A Royal Scientist had done this, and he hadn’t noticed. He should have noticed - he should have stopped it. No, he should have made sure whoever had done this had never thought this kind of extreme was necessary in the first place. 

 

A slap across his cheek brought him out of it. Asgore stared at the smirking face of Doctor Tugger, shocked.

 

“Oh don’t look like that. My job is to look out for people. I know the signs of overthinking and too much blame. I can’t say the same of my human colleagues, which is stupid. Mental and emotional problems affect the SOUL just as much as damage to the body. Then again, they still can’t accept that the SOUL exists the way we know it does, so I suppose their stupidity can somewhat be excused. Maybe.”

 

Tugger patted his shoulder and walked over to the pile of pillows and the waiting flame. Sans was limp as a jellyfish, clearly out of it.

 

“This was no more your fault than it was Sans’ or Papyrus’. We blame  **_him_ ** and only  **_him_ ** . The monster who did this to them is the only one at fault. They were hidden away for most of their lives. That means the monster knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew you wouldn’t approve. It’s not your fault.”

 

Asgore sighed, “I know that. I only wish I could believe it.”

 

Tugger scoffed, “Believe it. If you don’t, I’ll sick Papyrus on you. No one stays guilty for long when he’s around. By the way, someone should call him. You, for preference, Fluffybuns. Grillby’s busy being a hot pad.”

 

Grillby crackled, “.....Thanks ever so much.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

The doctor’s grin twitched minutely. He started messing with Sans’ wrists, checking them over again and generally wasting time. Asgore understood the message: get out of my office, I have work to do and I can’t be dealing with an upset Boss Monster on top of everything else. 

 

Asgore stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket and wrapping his large paw around the door handle. Tugger’s voice stopped him, his tone...odd.

 

“Oh, and Fluffybuns?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Don’t let Toriel come with him.”

 

Ah. That explained it - even the cat monsters had to respect his former wife when she was in a rage. And hearing about all this...Asgore decided he’d rather be far away when she learned of it. Very far. He wondered how quickly his office could set up a meeting that urgently required his presence. 

 

He wondered whether Sans would forgive him for calling them first.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I got fanart! Go check it out at:
> 
> https://instagram.com/p/BWQ5Dy5li5h/


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